Breaking Baz: Furious Outcry Over Tourette’s N-Word Outburst At BAFTAs Could Be A Teachable Moment

Can we please talk? There’s an ongoing outcry over John Davidson, the Tourette syndrome campaigner portrayed with empathy by double BAFTA recipient Robert Aramayo in the movie I Swearand his unfortunate, involuntary eruption of the most offensive racial slur when Sinners stars Michael B Jordan and Delroy Lindo were performing presenting duties during Sunday’s ceremony in London.

The Brutalist Grade 1-listed Royal Festival Hall engages a live sound reinforcement system, which meant that Davidson’s utterances were audible to those seated in the front and rear stalls — and most certainly to those standing onstage.

Apparently, there were live production mics in the vicinity of where Davidson was seated. Later, those mics were moved to a safer spot.

That this would happen was predictable. That it did occur comes down to a gross case of lack of care towards Davidson. Contingency plans should have immediately swung into place to cut the mics sooner — or to place him elsewhere.

RELATED: BBC Removes BAFTA Film Awards From iPlayer After Initially Failing To Cut N-Word From Ceremony

There were warning signs earlier Sunday, ahead of the show, when Davidson strode along the red carpet and vocal tics erupted from his mouth. It was so noisy in the vicinity of where it took place that few heard it, though I managed to somehow, during the middle of an interview with Netflix’s Ted Sarandos.

Ryan Coogler’s Sinners is an astute allegory that explores the layers of oppression and racism suffered by African Americans. I think that with all that’s going on in the U.S., there’s bitter irony that one of the most hurtful epithets that could be hurled at a Black person should be wailed while two Black American artists are in the UK, in the most visible way. And it has stung.

A senior Black entertainment executive took me aside as the hall emptied at the end of the ceremony to express his fury about Davidson’s coarse language. This is a guy who ordinarily projects cool and calm. But he was angrier than I’ve ever seen him in 30 years. I sympathized with him and the many others I spoke with on the topic at the after-parties.

All of the anger is understandable.

Certain words cut deep. The N-word is in the top ten.

But there’s mitigation. I’ve been debating about how to cover this; weighing up the hurt caused on one hand and the empathy required on the other.

This is, I believe, a teachable moment.

Tourette syndrome is a neurological disorder with no cure. There are treatments than can help manage the tics, but they never go away.

Stress, excitement or tiredness can set off an unwanted, uncontrollable volley of sudden jerky movements and/or a spew of four-letter and other words. Those who aren’t afflicted by the syndrome might think dark thoughts, but they are kept buttoned up. Someone with Tourette’s will just let it spew. So one can only imagine the intensity of going into an environment — the UK’s most prestigious film awards ceremony — that you’re not at all familiar with. Probably not the ideal location for Davidson. Then what? Stuck at home in case he, through no fault of his own, unleashes a string of expletives which he’s powerless to control?

Understand that they can’t help it.

Kirk Jones’ film I Swear, is inspired by two documentaries Davidson featured in, plus his autobiographyI Swear: My Life with Tourette’s. As a young schoolboy, Davidson was often cruelly stigmatized because no one had bothered to diagnose his disorder.

RELATED: Breaking Baz: How ‘I Swear’ Filmmaker Kirk Jones Financed His British Movie By Selling The Family Home

It wasn’t until a janitor, played in the movie by Peter Mullan, and the mother of a school friend, played by Maxine Peake, showed him some warmth and, that U-word, again: understanding.

They sought to discover what ailed the young Davidson. They were patient with him. They listened to him. Their efforts gave him purpose. As he grew to cope with his condition, he visited schools, youth groups and local organizations concerned with Tourette’s to tell them what he’d learned about managing his impediment. The late Queen Elizabeth II presented him with an honor. During that ceremony, his words were heard. Her Majesty took it in her stride, and in any case she was briefed it might happen.

When one’s in hearing distance of a Tourette’s outburst, or subjected to one, the experts I’ve read and consulted with all recommend forgiving and being considerate of those with the condition.

Some of us know about intolerance. But, do we know how to be tolerant? No matter how heinous? It shouldn’t be so, but it’s possible.

My father taught me a necessary lesson. It had to do with intent. The members of the whites-first National Front of the late 1970s threw that N-word around like dangerous weapons, which they also carried. I covered a few of those NF marches as a reporter in East London, and the verbal abuse was traumatizing.

But I remembered my father’s words: “Intent is when they mean it and you’ll know when they mean it because the words will wound you. You’ll feel the danger.”

There was more: “You’ll be in other situations where the words won’t cut through because they won’t be undercut with malice.”

I’ve modified those views over the years as a protection to the extent that, as much as possible, I choose not to be offended. However, I choose to be offended on behalf of others, and I will, and have, stepped in without fear.

None of that excuses what happened Sunday night at the BAFTA Film Awards and I could feel that N-word doing its damage to Jordan and Lindo.

The bottom line is, it was avoidable if StudioCanal and BAFTA had enacted plans that were in place.

In the early hours of this morning, I made my way into Soho House in Greek Street.

Good people at Searchlight had invited me to their soiree, while other film houses, such as StudioCanal and Mubi, celebrated their wins.

I bumped into Aramayo. We’d spoken about I Swear back in late August, before the film had its world premiere at TIFF, and I’ve become a fan of the film, due to Aramayo’s sublime performance and the film’s overall empathetic tone.

The actor held his two BAFTA trophies aloft. He was elated. He was also with his dad. Let him have his night/morning.

Lindo, in a statement via Vanity Fairrightly argues that he wished “someone from BAFTA spoke to us afterwards.”